By Valerie Jean Johnson

It was 1920 when Eugene O’Neill was awarded his first Pulitzer Prize for “Beyond the Horizon,” forecasting his place in theater history as one of America’s most important playwrights. Nearly a hundred years later, Chicago’s Goodman Theatre honors and examines the legacy of the “father of American drama” with “A GLOBAL EXPLORATION: Eugene O’Neill in the 21st Century,” a three-month festival (curated by Artistic Director Robert Falls) showcasing productions by some of today’s most innovative and exciting theater companies. At the top of the lineup is the New York City-based Wooster Group, itself a legend of the contemporary American stage, presenting their groundbreaking interpretation of “The Emperor Jones.”

For over three decades, under the direction of Elizabeth LeCompte, the company has been constructing its powerfully unique multimedia performances, including radical reworkings of plays by some of the most lauded playwrights of the historical and contemporary canon: Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, Eugene O’Neill. Their highly stylized productions have earned critical acclaim and drawn passionate controversy, perhaps none more so than “Jones,” the rarely produced, controversial, expressionistic tale of Brutus Jones, the tyrannical emperor of an island in the West Indies, on the run from natives in revolt, haunted by the ghosts of both his criminal past and the scars of America’s nefarious racial history. The nucleus of the Group’s explosive production, which premiered in 1993, is Kate Valk, a white woman who takes the stage with her face caked in thick black makeup, assuming the title role. It is a performance that has been praised by critics as “riveting, haunting and altogether astonishing,” a “tour de force” that has challenged racial and gender stereotypes while dazzling, disturbing and defying expectations of audiences around the globe.

Valk’s relationship with O’Neill’s play goes back to her childhood: “I certainly grew up with [it]…Paul Robeson [the stage and screen legend who played Jones in the 1924 revival] was one of my idols and I had seen the film…I had even, as a young girl, seen a ballet version of ‘The Emperor Jones’ so I certainly knew about it, although I hadn’t ever read the actual play.” It wasn’t until much later that Valk encountered the play on the page, when LeCompte presented the idea of producing the play to the Group. “When I first started working with the company they were doing ‘Port Judith,’ and Spalding’s [Gray] party piece was kind of a mad dance… he and Liz had taken and edited a section from ‘Long Day’s Journey into Night,’ so O’Neill was around…we read [‘Jones’], and she [LeCompte] thought that I could play it.”

The Wooster Group’s process draws from a variety of sources—music, film, traditional global theater practices, pop culture—and for this production, the company found a great deal of inspiration in the presentational style of Japanese Noh theater. “We began working with the text from O’Neill and the movement that we loved from the Asian theater forms—not that we studied it at all, it was more a kind of very modern, fast synthesis of all those materials, but it came very intuitively. And it’s all there on the page, like music… It’s written phonetically.”

And on a first reading, O’Neill’s writing style is nearly as startling in its appearance on the page as the story itself—the diction and language immediately and disturbingly evoke the ghosts of American minstrelsy characters. Confronted with the apparition of a prison guard he killed before fleeing to the island, Jones cries out to the dark walls of the surrounding forest “I kills you, you white debil, if it’s de last thing I evah does! Ghost or debil, I kill you agin!” Valk’s Brutus Jones is presented with such magnetic and unrelenting precision that each performance, she admits, is extremely exhausting, and preparing for each remount of the show is a challenge to both mind and body for this seasoned and accomplished actress. “I don’t quite have the same energy I had when I was 35,” Valk says with a chuckle, “but maybe there’s something else I look for. I would say what I lose in youthful robustness I maybe make up for just by experience of all the other kind of performance I’ve done with Liz and the group since then. [The performance] takes a lot of energy and I was a little worried about that until… Scott [Shepard] and Ari [Fliakos], the people that I play with on stage, and I just watched the tape. I’m really looking forward to doing it again.”

Those recordings of past performances are invaluable tools for the Group when remounting works from their thirty-plus year history. “We just watched the tape of the last time we performed it, in Philadelphia a little over a year ago. It’s scored out, and it doesn’t change radically in terms of structure. The singing of the song, of the text, my style, is still very much the same.” But this tour of “Jones” will be the company’s last, says Valk, explaining simply that “there are certain roles you play at certain times of your life.”

But Valk seems more than pleased at the prospect of launching the first of the final performances here in Chicago, a fitting culmination of the fifteen-year journey of “Jones.” “It’s an honor to be part of the O’Neill festival—are you kidding? To have the work seen in that context, I’m thrilled. To be considered part of the modern canon of O’Neill’s work, I’m deeply honored.”

At Goodman Theatre, 170 North Dearborn, (312)443.3800, January 7-11

Michael Halberstam as Scrooge at Writers

By Dennis Polkow

When Charles Dickens wrote “A Christmas Carol” back in 1843, he reportedly did it merely to pay off a debt.  His “little Christmas book,” as he liked to describe it, became the first in series of six Christmas books, but none ever attained the same popularity as that first effort.  A less clever man might have been annoyed by the success of what he clearly considered a lesser work, but not Dickens.  He was enough of a populist to recognize, as Jean-Paul Sartre would later explicitly state it, that the public always completes every work of art.  So unlike Tchaikovsky, who had nightmares about the fact that he would be best remembered for the “1812” Overture and “The Nutcracker,” Dickens shrewdly saw the dramatic and commercial opportunities for “A Christmas Carol” early on.  Nine years after writing it, Dickens read the novella publicly to a literary society in Birmingham and three days later to a working-class audience.  Both groups were mesmerized, according to newspaper accounts.

That same tradition continued on with stage actors for decades well into the radio era although, curiously, the thought of actually dramatizing the story gained more popularity when silent movies came in, allowing for dissolves and such that could make the ghosts described in the story actually appear via camera tricks.  In the case of the Goodman Theatre, one of the oldest attempts to literalize the story on a live stage, the earliest adaptation thirty-one years ago opened with Dickens himself writing the story on stage at his desk with a quill pen and serving as a pseudo-narrator, although he became gradually less relevant as the action progressed.  Much was made about the first time that various ghosts took flight on stage in the early 1980s, and long before falling chandeliers and helicopter landings became commonplace in mega-musicals of the later 1980s, plenty of folks were coming to the Goodman “A Christmas Carol” for the stagecraft more than the story.  There were times when the production became so behemoth and so stripped to the bone narratively that Dickens seemed to fade away from the proceedings almost as mysteriously as Marley’s face on Scrooge’s knocker.

In this year’s production, a small Greek chorus of jovial carolers endeavor to tell the story, right from “Marley is dead” and like that first Goodman adaptation some three decades ago, they fade away from the proceedings but do appear now and then when a jolt of Dickensian language is needed.  After all, when the narrative is stripped bare apart from its social commentary and wry humor and eloquent storytelling, even Mister Magoo can play Ebenezer Scrooge.

Larry Yando as Goodman's Scrooge

The problem that poor Larry Yando, a terrifically talented actor who is playing Goodman’s Scrooge for a second year, has is to flesh out a character via dialogue that does not benefit from Dickens’ own insertive language.  Invariably, this means that Yando, like most Scrooge portrayals, ends up coming across at the beginning more cranky and mean than the book and more joyous and childlike in the end as a literal contrast has to be drawn.

The huge advantage that Michael Halberstam has in his solo performance of “A Christmas Carol” at Writers’ Theatre is that his own portrayal of Scrooge can be far more subtle because he can play up Dickens’ own descriptions.  His Scrooge is more indifferent than mean, very matter of fact.  I haven’t heard the recordings of our state’s governor, for instance, allegedly refusing to pay children’s hospital funds without a kickback, but I would be quite surprised if he were hissing or screaming as he is doing so.  Usually such “requests” are calm and cool.  People can often be polite when they utter the casually brutal equivalent of “Are there no prisons?  Are there no workhouses?”  If Scrooge is angry, he is less interesting.  It is indifference that is responsible for his isolation, not a temper.

By the same time, the transformation that Scrooge goes through during “A Christmas Carol” is one of self-discovery through his life’s journey.  We see him become indifferent when his father leaves him at school over the holidays because the alternative is to fall apart.  As an older man, he can recognize the cruelty of this in a way that psychological self-defense would never permit when he is a teenager.  Scrooge has become his father in his dealings with his clerk and others, but only by recalling the pain that the indifference of his father towards him does he come to see this.  And so it goes, encounter by encounter, Scrooge even assuming that the point of his visitations is for self improvement, which is why he cannot bring himself to even consider the possibility that the first death portrayed during the Ghost of Christmas Future visitation could be his own.

The other detail made so clear in Halberstam’s performance that is lost at Goodman is that Scrooge has learned to stop feeling much of anything at all, good or bad.  So when he does start to feel some things once again with the Spirits, he wants to dismiss these in Dickens’ language.  And he cynically jokes with the ghosts as much as he is afraid of them, realizing it could be indigestion, or even senility, since these visitations were supposed to happen over three nights so he could have well missed Christmas entirely.

And what of the transformation at the end?  How radical is it?  Dickens gives Scrooge enough of a heart at the beginning—after all, the clerk does end up with the day off—and enough impatience at the end as he is watching himself try to be polite to a boy that he condescendingly finds can actually converse and quip, that there is more ambiguity here than Goodman or other literal adaptations can allow.

Halberstam and Writers Theatre are on to something very important in their rediscovery of “A Christmas Carol” as a solo performance work: the power of great storytelling itself in communicating the soul of a story vs. stringing together a host of scenes portrayed literally and hoping that the end result will be more than the sum of its parts.

This difference can best be seen in the response of young children to both approaches: children love Goodman’s “A Christmas Carol,” perhaps especially the “scary” parts, much like an amusement-park ride.  And adults love to bring children to watch them watch the experience.  The few young children who were brought to Writers’ Theatre “A Christmas Carol” however, barely made it through the first scene.  Some were just bored, to be sure, but others were struck down with primordial terror by the intensity and power of a single storyteller baring and focusing his all.  Children tend to have far more developed imaginations than most of us do as we get older, and Dickens’ eloquence is such that each of us in our own way conjures up in our mind’s eye something far more terrifying than anything the most literal staging of “A Christmas Carol” could possibly convey.

“A Christmas Carol” runs at the Goodman Theatre, (312)443-3820, through December 31; and at Writers’ Theatre, (847)242-6000, through December 23.

RECOMMENDED
Rape has long been a terrible weapon of war. But the sexual violence associated with the recent civil conflict in the Democratic Republic of the Congo has reached unprecedented levels of brutality.  Lynn Nottage’s “Ruined” is a riveting, poignant examination of Congolese women and their struggle to survive the unspeakable.

Mama Nadi (Saidah Arrika Ekulona) is a savvy businesswoman who not only survives but profits from the war by offering food, drink and female company to soldiers on both sides. She takes in two abused women, shunned by their families for being raped. Together, they navigate the baffling intricacies of wartime politics.

The top-notch ensemble shines throughout. Ekulona’s no-nonsense Mama is a rock of compromise and negotiation; Condola Phyleia Rashad  is luminous as the “ruined” girl Mama hopes to save. But Quincy Tyler Bernstine’s raw portrayal of a woman enslaved by soldiers stops the heart. She is a wonder.
(Lisa Buscani)

At The Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, (312)443-3830, through December 14.

RECOMMENDED

Seeing director Tommy Tune sign an autograph in the Goodman lobby before the world premiere of “Turn of the Century” was a tangible indication of the star wattage, of the stakes involved in what is likely the fall season’s most-anticipated theatrical opening. With the nine-time Tony winner helming the debut of the new musical from “Jersey Boys” creators Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, and featuring movie star Jeff Daniels and Broadway star Rachel York playing the romantic leads, this is a production clearly pointed toward the bright lights of Broadway.

Dixie and Billy are success-deprived musicians who find themselves together on the eve of the new millennium. (Hearing “1999″ performed as a piano “standard” affirms Prince’s decision to retire the song from his repertoire.) They’re soon magically transported back a hundred years to the dawn of the twentieth century, where Billy realizes they can release the hits of the upcoming era as their own creations, and convinces Dixie to play along. Before long, they are the superstars they’ve always dreamed of being, albeit not on terms ever imagined. The conceit allows for a songbook-of-the-century musical mash-up, from Irving Berlin and George Gershwin to Paul Anka and Paul Simon, a process that subtly evokes its own commentary about the relative paucity of contemporary culture, perhaps exemplified in Dixie’s aspiration to be like “Celine Dion!” The result is a crowd-pleasing period musical in the tradition of, say, “Thoroughly Modern Millie” with some thoroughly modern juxtapositions, like a comical take on Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” sung by Ziegfeld Girls. Walt Spangler’s set soars with gorgeous simplicity: an oval portal envelopes the stage, with an encircling LED crawl that provides setting details and some humorous commentary; inside its borders a multipurpose backdrop curves like the sky itself, sometimes turning the set into a glorious epic snow globe. In the Goodman’s relatively intimate space, the overall effect is magical; this is the Broadway musical of the imagination, one that the reality of the much larger theaters normally housing big musicals can’t imitate.

Under Tune’s direction, the musical is a loving homage to the era it plunders; the costume and choreography is “Top Hat” come to life (without the dancing of Fred Astaire, or much dancing at all, for that matter). The radiant Rachel York, with her big voice and just the right vulnerability, is perfection as Dixie. Jeff Daniels, as Billy, is not. In real life, he’s a Michigan-based movie star who does admirable things for Midwest theater and even croons a bit as a singer-songwriter, but his voice is adequate at best. Of course, his role doesn’t really require the big pipes since he plays the piano man, but it does call for lady-killer charisma and that’s not him. He’s just too affable, in spite of the douche-bags he’s played in the movies at times. But he’s good enough: with the sparkling York at his side and a crackerjack ensemble around him, anyone with a soft spot for the nostalgia of Tin Pan Alley and old Broadway will swoon.

What elevates “Turn of the Century” above mere pleasantly nostalgic musical theater is the sort of Einsteinian cultural paradox it conjures. Before long, a 12-year-old Irving Berlin (played with beyond-his-years verve by Jonah Rawitz in a very demanding role) enters the lives of Billy and Dixie, who’ve been merrily making hay “writing” the songs Berlin’s destined to write. What will Berlin and his fellow songwriting greats do with their lives if all their songs are taken? The musical asks the question but then brushes it aside in order to rush us toward the obligatory happy ending.

It’s a sly comment, nonetheless, positing that our culture is milking its past dry. Are Brickman and Elice offering penance for their own transgressions, their “plundering” the songs of others for profit here and in “Jersey Boys”? Or are they simply asking a big question of our time: if every big hit is either a revival or a repurposing of a movie (hello, “Dirty Dancing” and ‘The Producers”), what kind of future are we leaving for the culture? (Brian Hieggelke)

At Goodman Theatre, 170 North Dearborn, (312)443-3800, through November 2.

“’Caroline, Or Change’ is the largest single production that Court Theatre has ever attempted,”  artistic director Charles Newell tells his company on the first day of rehearsal. “We tried to do it in the past, we tried to figure out when and how, and only now have the stars aligned to make it possible.”

When you start with words written by Pulitzer Prize-winner Tony Kushner and music by Tony-nominated Jeanine Tesori, you start on pretty fertile grown from which to build a solid production. “Its not just about making great music, but how can that music serve the emotional storytelling,” Newell says of the intricately crafted material.

“Caroline, Or Change” is the story of an African-American housekeeper working in a stifling basement laundry room in Louisiana in 1963. The coins that 8-year-old Noah carelessly leaves behind in his pocket are more than just spare change to Caroline and her family. The little issue of change in pockets becomes a catalyst for big drama as the characters, all of them, cope with loss. Blending blues, gospel and traditional Jewish melodies in a complicated score makes the show a mammoth operation and demands expertise.

“You only do Hamlet when you have a Hamlet,” explains Newell of the necessity to have an actress dexterous enough to play the title character in this demanding piece of theater that straddles the line between opera and musical theater. E. Faye Butler is that actress.

“She started her career wanting to be a classical-theater actor, only by circumstance did she begin to develop a career as a musical theater performer,” says Newell of his star. Butler was last seen in “Ain’t Misbehavin’ “ at The Goodman and has worked on every major stage in Chicago. Her abilities with text and character, coupled with her musical ability, give her the arsenal of tools demanded to play the title role.

Once Newell and longtime collaborator and musical director Doug Peck had Caroline, the rest of the cast came together. Then they set to the difficult task of bringing the words to life. “How do we talk about this piece that is about such complicated human emotions that can be perceived as dark and as a downer,” Newell asks, “when in fact the energy and life in the piece is so life affirming?”

From the coins in a cup next to the washing machine to the death of a mother, “Caroline, Or Change” is about coping with life. After years in the works, Court Theatre is finally ready to bring that struggle to stage. (William Scott)

At Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis, (773)753-4472, through October 1926.

RECOMMENDED

Will the real Thomas “Fats” Waller stand up? There is Waller the unparalleled stride pianist, the most virtuosic, innovative and swinging musical player of that genre who could make the dullest tune something special; Waller the prolific composer of Broadway shows and hundreds of standards, known and unknown, since he often sold song rights outright figuring he could always write something better to put his own name on; a singer extraordinaire of both his own material and anyone else’s that record companies wanted to popularize; bandleader, radio personality and movie star and joyous raconteur whose shifty eyebrows, broad smile and easygoing persona epitomized the devil-may-care ethos of the Harlem Renaissance. Since 1978, however, Waller is best remembered for a Broadway revue of his music that was put together thirty-five years after his death and named after one of his most popular standards, “Ain’t Misbehavin’. ” The good news is that this musical, which has never gone out of style in thirty years, has ensured that Waller has endured as a pop-culture icon after a period of neglect, but the bad news is that it is a Waller filtered through the later vision of others that reflects our own era as much as his own. As much fun as the show always is, it remains a frustration that Waller’s own shows are so rarely revived and it would seem a natural for any number of area companies to rectify this, but for the moment, Goodman Theatre has been thrust in the position of presenting “Misbehavin’,” originally scheduled for its small stage over the spring, to its large stage over the summer since its would be big world premiere musical fell through. Thus, if you can get over the wasteful mindset that this is an extravagant and expensive production of a show that works just fine with few resources during a recession, with its nine-piece onstage band of first-class area players and five powerhouse singers, this is as solid a cast as is likely to be assembled these days. Director Chuck Smith has followed the standard 1970s convention of having three large ladies and two thin guys, though the reality is that the large Waller (at 5’ 11” and 285 pounds, they didn’t call him “Fats” for nothing) was always surrounded by tall, thin and gorgeous ladies more of the Lena Horne type than the Nell Carter variety. (Dennis Polkow)

At Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, (312)443-3800. Thu 7:30pm/Fri-Sat 8pm/Sun 2pm & 7:30pm. Through August 3.

Pride has come to Chicago once again. It is time to take to the streets and celebrate the diversity that gives our city so many reasons to be excited. About Face Theatre is one of those reasons. This season the dynamic institution dedicated to the exploration of sexuality and gender issues will have new artistic leadership. Award-winning producer, director and playwright Bonnie Metzgar has taken the helm as artistic director and is excited to continue the company’s dynamic programming. Although Metzgar won’t make it to the parade this year—she is currently traveling Africa with her partner—she did take a few minutes to share a little bit about how she got here and what she is looking forward to as she makes Chicago her home.

How did you get to Chicago and About Face?

I spent the last year traveling around the U.S. for the 365 Festival with Suzan-Lori Parks. We partnered with 600 theaters; fifty-two of them were here in Chicago. Congo Square, Next, Steppenwolf, Goodman, Writers, Hypocrites—I learned fast that, wow, the Chicago theater scene is amazing! Bold artists, bold audiences—that’s my kind of town. So when the opportunity with About Face came up, I jumped at it. About Face has always had a unique place in the American theater as a home for new work that furthers the national dialogue on sexuality and gender.

How do you plan to continue what is great about About Face?

I will continue the commitment to artistic excellence and to developing the voice of our youth. I will expand the tradition of collaboration by continuing to find new ways to reach out to the community. And I will throw really great parties. I am excited and proud to be producing our whole season at the Center on Halsted. The Hoover-Leppen Theater is gorgeous! And having a home in the heart of the LGBTQ community feels right.

What excites you about Chicago?

Chicago is fierce—in its commitment to the arts, its celebration of diversity and in its history of political struggle. So for someone like me who is interested in the messy intersection of art and politics, Chicago is a fascinating place to be in 2008.

The country is changing for the LGBTQ community. What is the role theater can and must play in shaping perceptions and advancing LGBTQ causes?

The country is not changing for us. We are changing the country—by working hard, building bridges, making art that moves us all closer to each other. We need to feel the urgency in each day—as citizens and artists, in our homes, in the streets and in our art—if we dare to believe that another world is possible.

What message do you have for the LGBTQ community as we enter this year’s gay pride celebration?

Our community is in all communities. Reach out. Beyond your comfort zone. And support LGBTQ artists in Chicago during pride and all year round! (William Scott)

Learn more about Bonnie Metzgar and About Face Theatre at aboutfacetheatre.com

It’s one thing to fetishize the good old days, but this might be the most melancholy example yet. Inspired by an actual mom-and-pop gas station on the North Side that fell victim to market forces and changing neighborhood tastes, the themes that arise in Brett Neveu’s latest play might as well be outlined in the neon light that promises “Gas for Less.” Nobody likes change. Gentrification is a bitch. In today’s economy, the underdog is the dying dog. Dexter Bullard’s production at the Goodman has a sprawling, all-day-long quality to it, and anyone who has logged time behind a retail counter will recognize the sensation. (Tom Burch’s set is fantastic, a lived-in diorama stocked with old school mini-mart details.) But it’s like watching an ice cube melt; authentic and terribly boring. A photo can suggest an entire world within its borders; the three-dimensional reality of actors on a stage requires something more. Neveu captures the overall picture, but there’s not much life beneath the surface. (Nina Metz)

At Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, (312)443-3800.  This production is now closed.

RECOMMENDED

It isn’t often that you have a numbing and chilling glimpse of what it may have been like to have a really horrifying experience, but Goodman Theatre’s world premiere of Ifa Bayeza’s “The Ballad of Emmett Till” does exactly that as powerfully as any work of art I can recall. The brilliance of this work is that it is able to take a name whose 1955 lynching sparked such national outrage that it launched the civil rights movement and make him a flesh and blood character. The first act could well be any family portrait, as we meet Emmett (Joseph Anthony Byrd), a gregarious 14-year-old with a bit of a stutter who makes up for his shyness through talking loudly and telling jokes in an attempt to get everyone to like him. His mother (Deidrie Henry) is overprotective and concerned, and while their relationship is revealed as a close and tender one, the absence of Emmett’s father and the onset of puberty have Emmett attempting to reach out to a wider and more masculine world than the cocoon of his maternal home by wanting to visit his uncle and cousins in Mississippi. Mom tries to convince him that the segregated South is not like Chicago but ultimately gives in to Emmett’s charm and free spirit. We watch Emmett go down South and become reacquainted with his relatives and his buying chewing gum in a store alone with a young white women. Emmett is so nervous that he whistles as much as talks, but the ramifications of this are unclear until nights later when a posse of white men come and take Emmett from his uncle’s home in the middle of the night “to teach him a lesson.” The second act concentrates on the aftermath of the death, including a very tender scene where Emmett’s mother tries to look beyond the horror of Emmett’s badly beaten and decomposed face to positively identify whatever features she can and what went into her decision to have the world see what she saw at his funeral. But the most powerful scenes are of Emmett himself, in the mind’s eye of those he loved, reacting to what is going on at his murder trial. His “voice” becomes their voice of conscience as often do the voices of those who love us and know us inside and out but precede us in death. Yes, the second act does feature some horrifying scenes of Emmett being beaten and even drowning, and they are very hard to sit through. But it was part of this young man’s journey, and it is a dark chapter of the journey that we need to be a witness to, to truly understand how much this pivotal incident forever transformed race relations in this country. (Dennis Polkow)

At the Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, (312)443-3800.  This production is now closed. 

Harris Yulin’s production of “A Trip to Bountiful” seems to be guaranteed success: Horton Foote’s historically popular play as performed by actors with impeccable resumes on an impressive, dynamic set. However, the show comes off as slick but ultimately irrelevant and obsolete. Foote’s story about an aging woman trying to get to her hometown before she dies gives far more material to the actors, who get to grapple with complex pathos at almost every moment, than to the audience, who end up with, for example, the woman in question giving away her wish from a falling star to a younger fellow-traveler whose husband is away at war. The play feels anachronistic and heavy-handed at almost every turn, and the actors, with little exception, do little to breathe life into it. For spectators who want the comfort of method acting taking on a mid-century meditation on the passing of time and the generation gap, “The Trip to Bountiful” will deliver, but anyone in search of brave, challenging theater will leave wondering wherein the bounty lies. (Monica Westin)

At the Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn, (312)443-3800. This production is now closed.